Star Trek: New Frontiers
by trekker2000
Summary: An old threat is rising again... with a new way to fight it. The Borg have always been the worst enemy the federation has ever faced, but a new century and new technology means new weapons of destruction... and liberation. A diverse group is lead by a newly graduated captain on the most advanced ship of the ages. Their mission: liberate the Borg. All the Borg.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The uniform was crisp, clean, without a single stain or wrinkle. It wasn't her addiction, as a Vulcan, to cleanliness and order that had created this perfection. It was the status of this set of clothes. Brand new, made out of real cotton instead of the empty matter inside the replicators.

Every new captain's first uniform was tailored specifically for them, with real fabrics that many planets across the galaxy could find profit from trade in creating. The textile market wasn't huge, not as big as Quark Enterprises alone was, but big enough to encompass more than a few dozen worlds and thousands of workers.

A textile factory had been founded just for first uniforms. Usually, everyone in Starfleet had five non-replicated uniforms. One for starting the academy, one for starting active duty, one for achieving a command, one for working as a teacher at the Academy, then one for becoming an admiral, the highest rank of all.

Unlike nearly everyone else, she wouldn't be getting a first duty uniform. She wouldn't fight to rise up through the ranks. She was the ranks.

First day of duty would start next week, seven days away exactly. This was just the pre-mission briefing.

And that only made her that much more nervous. After four years at the Academy, she had graduated at the top of her class, gleaned Head-Admiral Picard's personal interest, landed the newest ship in the fleet, first of its model and name, and the most dangerous, yet life-changing mission anyone had ever been assigned.

The doors to the briefing room hissed open, revealing the conference room that select few had ever seen. It was built for the Klingon war, all those years ago, when Kirk and the Enterprise 1701 had been head of the fleet. At first, the room had been converted to storage, but the need for the incredible room had arisen when the Romulans and Borg popped up and started causing trouble. 17 re-fits later, and the room was equipped with state-of-the-arc equipment ready for the next huge tactical mission.

Just like the ship and command she would be receiving.

"Captain Setask." The old, bald man who was head of Starfleet stood and addressed her as she walked in.

"Admiral Picard." She replied with exemplary Vulcan calm, even though everything inside was shivering. He had called her Captain, and it was more than just a formality. It was recognition.

Off to the side, Setask notice five people, all of different races, standing at attention, barely even blinking their eyes.

"A five star bridge crew." Picard said, the ends of his lips turning up. "Plus a few."

Picard motioned Setask to step to the end of the table, to stand behind the chair right next to the one Picard had inhabited moments before. Without hesitation, she followed the order and stood with her hands lightly resting on the back of the chair.

"Thiri th'Shire, first officer, holds the rank commander. Has battle-field and other experience related to the mission at hand." A bulky Andorian with a new but replicated command red jacket and long white hair tied in a neat knot at the back of his head and the wiggling, worm-like antennae all Andorian had barely pushing through the strands stepped forward, saluted, and sat at the right hand side. His skin was a slightly lighter blue than was customary to most Andorian, but blue nonetheless.

"Tokkra, head of security, holds the rank lieutenant. Battlefield experience and weapons specialist." A Romulan with muscles but not bulk saluted. His uniform was in no way clean, and it didn't fit quite right, sagging at the elbows and knees, and coming down to cover most of his hands and get stuck under the heels of his feet. "First Romulan in Starfleet." Picard added as Tokkra too saluted and sat next to Thiri.

"Avery Ryant, head of medical facilities, holds the rank specialized doctor. Battlefield condition and triage experience, best doctor in the fleet." A tall man quickly saluted and sat down next to Tokkra. His blonde hair and dark skin seemed mismatched and quirky, but a light had shone in his eyes that told Setask that this man was a good one. He was technically of higher rank then her, a specialized doctor taking precedence over nearly everyone bust chief admirals and the head admiral. Truly a good crew for a hard mission.

"Nem, chief engineer, holds the rank lieutenant." A fat, well groomed Tellerite with a huge toothy smile and well-worn uniform saluted and waddled over to sit down. "Head technician at Starfleet research and development of new technologies." A huge accomplishment.

"Lillian Khar, science officer, holds rank ensign." Setask felt like this introduction was a slap in the face. An ensign, just a kid. She searched her mind for a Lillian, feeling like the name sounded familiar. Whatever the name might have meant, the face pushed that all away. It was striking, brown hair that tumbled gently in small ringlets that deserved the name wave more than curl. Her skin was fair, the ink-black Trill spots clear on her skin. Despite being Vulcan and under control, Setask couldn't help but wonder where the pattern of spots might cease to exist, where the track might end. A petit body that the uniform fit very well. Soulful green eyes and small yet full lips dominated the girls face. "No field experience, first active duty assignment."

After Lillian had sat down, Setask herself saluted her crew and took a seat, whilst Admiral Picard continued to stand.

The elderly man walked confidently to the half-wall screen directly on the other side of the table, and tapped the screen once gently to bring it to life. The spinning, tri-colored Starfleet insignia that signified the computer was ready for a command appeared on the screen, as tranquil as ever. Picard turned to face the small crowed and started the briefing.

"You are the chosen officers to largely carry out Mission Lost-Sheep Recovery." Setask couldn't fathom what the mission entitled. At the last words, the screen flickered to life, and a file folder opened up and exposed the contents and details of the mission.

"You were all brought to my attention and selected out of hundreds of other candidates based on experience, skill sets, and basic mentality and stability test results. This mission and information is highly classified. The other crewmembers that will serve on this ship have specific orders and know the status. Even their knowledge level is going to be kept low. This mission is too important. Anyone who tells another person anything about their duty and this mission will be immediately detained. Any recipients of this information will be detained as well. Minimum punishment is a life-sentence of imprisonment."

Everyone was deadly serious now. Serious, determined, and scared.

Picard clicked the first document in the folder, and a series of letters and numbers took up the screen. "The U.S.S. Prometheus 1432. First of its class." A few seconds later, a huge ship took over the screen. The saucer section was a huge rhombus, the bottom point being used to attach to the rest of the ship. "50 decks, warp 15, 16,500 crew. 6 forward and backward phaser banks, 17 torpedo launchers, 4 forward and backward plasma cannons."

"A warship." Avery grumbled.

"In all actuality, yes." Picard confirmed everyone's suspicions. He let everyone look at the brand new ship before exiting back to the folder and opening a second document.

Setask's stomach dropped. Borg technical information. Different types of ships and their crew and capabilities, nano-probe data, assimilation process, Borg tendencies and behaviors, technology, research and development rate, everything there is to know about Borg technology and how it works and how it's being developed.

The next file contained fluctuating data, numbers going up and down, names of worlds and systems and ships adding to an already huge list. The numbers were "Estimated ship count", "Assimilated Borg", and "Estimated worlds affected".

Another document was all about locations of Borg Ships, Borg Worlds and Systems, movement patterns, and clusters all around the galaxy, Alpha, Delta, Gamma and Beta quadrants.

At the top of the next document was a place closer to Earth than Setask would have been comfortable with. Mercury Rehabilitation Center. "For the last 40 years, since the first Borg had been liberated by Admiral Kathryn Janeway in the Delta Quadrant, Starfleet has been constructing a full Liberation Center for all assimilated beings." A series of pictures flashed on the screen. A tour of the center.

There were little red marks where security officers were going to be. A lot of those little red marks. They were everywhere. The place didn't look like a death and torture chamber, but it wasn't quite temple-clean and comforting either. The doors were huge, for rolling in sedated Borg on stretchers, Picard said. There were huge hallways, fit for near 20 Klingons abreast to walk down. Each hallway had a different sign over, a list of jobs and processes printed near the door.

Down hallway one, there were huge chambers with glass front walls. There were maybe 20 of these chambers, each big enough to house 50 comfortably, with room for walkways between beds. "These rooms will house Borg after first arriving. The larger pieces will slowly be removed under sedation. These pieces include the top layer of armor."

The next hallway was more specialized, Picard told the group. "They will remove Borg appendages and replace them with flesh and bone, this including ocular implants." The rooms were about the same size and in the same number. There was a small lab off to each side, presumably for skin grafts and bone synthesizing.

Hallway three would remove all possible implants, but would leave anything that was integral to the living and processes of the natural body. Skin grafts to cover scaring and gaps where implants were removes.

Hallway four included smaller rooms, each room housing only five with a little extra space, and nearly 200 rooms. The end of the hallway where every other entrance could be found was blocked off by a gate edging the farthest room, leaving at least 20 feet to the entrance. "Only staff members can go through that gate, to bring in newly Liberated Borg during the night."

At the far end of the rooms, a hallway branched to right, continued on for maybe 10 or 15 feet, before swinging into another hallway alongside the one with the rooms.

It seemed that each room had a separate purpose. Counseling and recovering of data such as name, date of birth, and family, finding and locating living family members, social classrooms where those liberated can learn about the galaxy they can start living in, other education classrooms to begin filling in holes that were left behind, career and living advice, clothing and hair personalization, and identity discovering.

There was a shuttlebey at the very back of the facility, where up to 20 shuttles could land to pick up those who were certified as liberated and ready to go out into the galaxy.

"These individuals will, always, have some scars and implants that can never be removed, something that sets them apart from everyone else. While we are trying to create a new race of Liberated Borg as well as reducing a threat, at the beginning, this will be very difficult for everyone involved."

Picard closed the document and opened up the last file in the folder. Mission Data headed this page, and Setask felt a momentary gladness, a need to leave this room and leave this data behind for some period of time. Mostly because she'd be living it for however long.

"The mission is going to last as long as the Prometheus is functional, while more and better Borg-fighting and liberation technology is being created. All crew members signed on to this mission will likely be serving here for the rest of their careers, or lives. Whichever ends first."

Thiri's antennae quivered and deflated. Lillian's face fell into a perpetual gloom. Avery was startled and outraged, but overcame those feelings quicker. It was easier for him, he was clearly the eldest of the bridge crew with whitening hair and crow's feet next to his eye. Tokkra didn't seem to mind as much as hunger for it, as if he had something to prove. As the first Romulan in Starfleet, he probably did. Nem's face fell, her joyful little black eyes faded a little.

"What about family?" She asked, her voice a squeak.

Picard nodded. "You may speak to your family over subspace whenever, or see them for a small period of time when on the two week leave after dropping off Borg."

"Erm." Lillian scratched at her jawline, her face getting slightly red.

"Avery is well-versed on Joined Trill care, and all emergency supplies and measures are a step away on the ship. You'll be well taken care of." Picard replied. Lillian seemed to relax, though some part of her remained tense.

Picard turned towards Setask and looked deliberately at her. "Avery has everyone's medical record, and any treatments you might require on some type of basis will be known to Avery and he had training and is properly equipped to handle such medical situations.

"He has provided expert care to many Trill, slightly before, during, and after becoming joined, and many Vulcans leading up to their Pon Farr. He may have even re-attached a few antennae, and done transfusions to all species using chemicals and human blood. You will be taken very good care of."

With a nod of his bald head, Picard motioned everyone could get up. "The Prometheus is ready in drydock. Transporter Chiefs have been made aware of how you look, and will beam you up to the ship. If you must go anywhere else, however, you must put in a request. I suggest you all start moving in with the rest of your crew."

With another nod, the Admiral signaled everyone's ability to leave, and they all did. Only Setask lingered for a moment, looking at the Admiral. He stared back evenly, though not with half the intensity any Vulcan was capable of. "Good luck, Cap."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

This was the second load. The first one had consisted largely of extra replicated uniforms, a few off duty clothes and a ceremonial robe for any occasion. A few books, including the Teachings of Surak, had gone over as well, and four candles. The fifth was coming in this load, along with the rest of her books, (only the ones she felt she needed. That came up to nearly two dozen. In reality, she had a few hundred back home on Vulcan), and a little case that held small mementoes.

Everyone said Vulcan's didn't have a true personality, that they didn't have décor besides candelas and other symbols of logic and peace. That they hated everyone who was outgoing and a little strange. Setask could easily prove that largely, this was a totally false statement.

Despite all the technology in this world, physical things still meant everything sometimes. Stuck on her desk right above the computer terminal was a photograph of a very young Setask leaning against her mother, her father's arm draped across his wife's shoulder. A photo of a sleeping Ion, the families beloved pet Sehlat. Another one where Ion was sleeping lazily again, but this time his paw comfortingly and protectively over a sleeping Setask.

A few more pictures of her childhood home, town, friends, all manner of family, and more than a few pets that had more than likely once been considered wildlife lined the edges of her desk. Most Vulcan's had some personal way to remember family. Setask knew she wasn't the only one who kept pictures.

A rather large pillow also had to come with. Setask had had it since she was a very young child. Her mother said it had been hers, and that she had passed it on to her baby daughter a week after her birth. A lot of memories, good and bad, surrounded this pillow. Plus, it still smelt somewhat like mom and Ion and home and Vulcan. All the things she missed no matter how much she could see them over a comm link.

As Setask trudged down the hallway, a small beep from one of the speakers on the ceiling made Setask stop and look up. A nervous voice crackled over the line.

"Erm, Captain Setask?" Lillian asked hesitantly. "You have an incoming message."

"Pass it on to my computer terminal in my quarters and tell whoever is on the other line that it might take me some time to make it there."

"Yes Sir." The comm crackled off quickly.

Just as Setask resumed slowly waddling to her room, a panting Nem was sighing in exasperation. Setask raised an eyebrow at the fat Tellerite.

"Ah, Captain. The ship will be ready for launch tomorrow. It's just the internal comm systems giving me some trouble, they keep crackling."

"I noticed." Setask replied evenly. "Try dusting."

Nem blushed red. "Yeah, dusting. Woops." She shrugged, thanked Setask, and started to jog her way to the next comm panel that Setask had just received her message from.

Her rooms seemed to be daunting Setask, pulling further away whenever she got close. Why the transporter room was so far away from bridge crew quarters was a design mystery that Setask had noticed had been weaved into every full-sized ship from the Federation. The Ferengi had one redeeming quality.

Despite the thick green blood that pulsed through her body and how strong her heart was, Setask was painfully relieved when the door to her rooms waved open, admitting the thin Vulcan in. An impatient face was waiting on the other line, and Setask hurriedly dropped all her stuff and took as long strides as her body could manage to get to the desk.

Pulling back her chair and sitting down, the old female Vulcan with gray outnumbering her black on the top of her head turned and glared into the screen.

"What took you so long?" The woman growled.

"I was finishing moving into the ship, Mother."

"And you launch first thing tomorrow?"

"0800" Setask replied.

"You always leave your chores until the last minute."

"I was prepping the ship Mother." Setask knew the argument was futile, but she still tried. At thinking the world futile, she couldn't help but shiver.

"I wanted to send a communiqué before you went on your mission, seeing ass how you'll be so busy." Her mother replied. "When will you be coming back?"

"In about a month, it is estimated. As long as we don't run into any trouble."

"Hey. Promise me you will come back." Her mother prompted.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're going on a classified mission that if you tell anyone about it, it means imprisonment for life. For all parties involved. That means it's dangerous."

"I promise, I'll come back." Setask paused for a moment. "How are you guys doing?"

"Norra is 27 and finishing up school. Your father is asleep on the floor over there," Her mother motioned off screen and the computer on the other side zoomed out to give Setask a clear view of not only her 124-year old father curled up in a ball in the sunlight streaming through the window, but a slightly larger stomach than she could remember seeing on her mom last month.

"You're pregnant."

"Yes." Her mother rested a hand on her belly lightly and smiled down. "Five months."

"Boy?"

"Oh, please. Not that I don't enjoy you girls, but I think sometimes your father gets a little sore on that subject."

Setask couldn't help but smile at that, which gleaned a concerned look from her mother.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I haven't meditated for a few days." Setask admitted.

"You know how dangerous that is." Her mother berated her. Setask really couldn't blame her. There had been a third little sister, who had died at the age of fifteen. She'd stopped meditating, and in turn went insane. Eventually, she'd jumped off of the outcropping of rock in the middle of the night.

That was a year before Setask left for Starfleet. It had been horrible. Usually, trained Vulcans can hold in their emotions. But not right then, probably because the kid hadn't been trained so emotions had run wild. In the end, that was what had killed her,

"I won't neglect self-care any longer, I promise."

"I know. And honey? I love you."

"I love you too, mom."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

There was a small beep coming from the door. Setask grumbled pushed her covers off, pulling her shirt down nervously.

Standing out in the hallway was a bouncing Nem. "I'm sorry to wake you up. I just need to finish checking the power systems, and your room is the last."

"Come on in." Setask replied, looking over at the digital display of time on her computer screen under the idling symbol. 0400 hours. "You should be in bed, not finishing up routine. You're going to be exhausted tomorrow."

"Your hair is sticking up on the left side." Nem broke in, brushing away her captain's concerns.

Fighting a blush, Setask struggled to push the bawdy strands back down, but they simply refused. "That's the problem with short hair." She sighed rather grimly, sitting back down on her bed. Nem giggled.

"Yes, I suppose that would be true." There was a few moments of silence before Nem spoke again. "All done and off to bed." She smiled a rather toothy smile. "G'Night cap."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Prometheus, you are free to go." The dispatcher on the station said, before breaking off communications.

"Lilian, take her out, 1/8 impulse." The Trill smiled her beautiful smile before tapping the console. Today, she was driving.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath while the huge warship slowly pulled itself out of drydock. Everyone breathed out when the ship was out.

"First destination?" Setask asked.

Tokkra tapped his tactical console a few times before answering. "The Dek'Ore System. 23 days travel at warp 10."

"Klingon territory?"

"Level one probe, 40 drones. Not including the whole population of the planet that is being assimilated as we speak, and the planet."

"Maximum Warp for an hour every five. Until we get there. Cut down on the time."

"Yes sir." Lillian replied, tapping a few more buttons. Slowly, the stars began to accelerate until they became glowing streaks across the screen.

"Feel free to shut the display off." Thiri groaned, and Setask could see where that was coming from. Her own mind was begging to ache at the sight.

"Smooth sailing." Setask reported before relaxing in her chair. Everyone on the bridge followed suit.

There was approximately 6 hours of the shift left. Most ships had four hour shifts, making the bridge switch out 6 times in the 24 hours. Four shifts in six hours made everyone work harder, but that was a good thing.

6 more hours of talking, basically, Setask thought meekly. Most Vulcans don't socialize.

Thankfully, Avery started asking questions first.

"If I may ask, Lillian, how long ago were you joined?"

"You didn't read the file yet?"

"I've read two, but I have them on this padd."

"Whose did you read?" Nem asked gently.

"Ensign Broso, and Ensign Agama."

"Alphabetical order to easy?" The good-natured Tellerite joked.

Avery snorted lightly back, grinning, before looking back pointedly at Lillian.

"Three weeks." Lillian replied quietly, as though embarrassed.

"You look very young, if you don't mind my saying." Setask wondered aloud.

"I am young!" Lillian snorted gently. "You look young!"

"That's because I am, too."

"How old are you?" Thiri asked, furrowing his brow and studying Setask rather intently.

"I won't tell." Setask replied.

"You're not going to make us guess?" Avery groaned.

"You have my file right there."

"Right. So I'll look and everyone else will guess and I'll tell them when they get it right."

"I think you just established a game, doctor." Setask replied.

"164!" Tokkra yelled from behind, making Thiri and Lillian jump. Everyone broke into laughter.

"Do I really look that old?" Setask asked.

"I don't really know. Most Vulcan's who look really young are like dead." Tokkra shrugged.

"No, she's nowhere near a day over 100." Nem replied. "Definitely younger than 70."

"What? How can you tell?" Tokkra crowed.

"Her eyes still gleam. I woke her up in the middle of the night and she was annoyed and told me to go back to bed and work in the morning. She hasn't spent so much time making sure that her emotions don't gain control that they barely exist." Nem replied. "Plus, most Vulcan's over 100 have some kind of gray hair."

"69?" Thiri asked, and Setask almost smiled after realizing how that number had occurred to him.

"No way. She's got to be closer to my age." Lillian broke in.

"And how old are you?" Nem asked, her face scrunched up.

"18." Setask replied. "The youngest you can join is 18, and you said you were young."

'I don't know guys." Lillian scoffed. "She's pretty good."

Avery was smirking in his chair, looking around at every face.

"What's so funny?" Tokkra grumped.

"If you convert to human years, then yes, she is closer to Lillian than her own mother."

"Your mom is 164 years old?" Tokkra asked, wonder filling his eyes.

"No, she's 119."

"Close enough." Avery snapped back.

"Half of 40 is 20." Nem rubbed her paw across her chin thoughtfully. "So you're 40."

"That's not fair, she's the engineer!" Thiri grumped.

"You don't know math?" Tokkra asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Shhhhhhhhh." Thiri dragged the sound out for minutes, barely breathing, until Setask put a finger over his lips and said "No."

Everyone nearly died laughing.

It was curious, Setask thought, that on the eve, or near enough, of a terrible battle, that people could joke and laugh so easily. Tomorrow would be business for everyone, but today was just smooth sailing.

Something inside told Setask that these six hours would be a blessing. Everyone here was allowed to be innocent for one more day. The laughter and jokes that surrounded and filled the bridge today belonged to a group of people who, after this moment, would probably have a long time before they would ever smile again.

Because smiling was an act easy to forget when you needed to remember so much else.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

One day had gone by and already the mess hall was nearly abandoned. Those who had taken up residence for the breakfast look just as their food did- meek. There were only four replicators on board, and each person could only use one meal every other day.

Ensign Bustos, a rather young Bolian, had chosen this meal to be the one good one for the next two days. Everyone else, all ten people, were chewing dejectedly on emergency rations in their foil containers, plastic forks poking at some kind of turnover, usually apple or cheery. In one case, peach.

One lieutenant had already decided to pace himself, eating emergency rations all the time and only using small amounts of replicator energy when a terrible personal need for good food arose. A few ensigns had inadvertedly decided this was a good idea.

Setask didn't like to ponder and pick at meals, in her mind it was a lot better to just get them done with and get back to work, whatever the duty was. Today felt different in more than one way.

The entire crew had seemed sobered up in some way, yesterday everyone had spent shifts slacking and laughing, not minding, almost forgetting what their duty was. But everything suddenly snapped into perspective when Ensign J-Tan had reported at 2000 hours last night that by this time tomorrow, the Borg would be right in front of us. Warp 15 every sixth hour had cut down the trip from 23 days travel warp 10 to three days travel.

The speed change seemed unrealistic, but the warp barrier was at warp 10; going just warp 11 for an hour can take off a whole days travel. Setask still had trouble figuring out how the galaxy worked sometimes.

Tokkra entered the mess hall and stalked over to the small table that was an addition to this ship to hold all the foil containers and emergency rations. The boy ran his eyes over the containers, searching for something worth eating. With a small sigh he finally chose a meal that would be less than exemplary and trotted over to the table where his captain sat.

"I hope you weren't waiting for me." Tokkra said sheepishly as he pulled back the lid to reveal a soggy apple turnover and a few dozen hash browns. He plucked up his knife and fork and took a small piece of turnover and put it in his mouth.

"Not at all." Setask replied modestly, fighting to actually eat the hash brown on the end of her fork.

"How long ago do you think these were cooked?" Tokkra asked, eating another, bigger bite, of turnover.

"Whenever Thiri has time, so about a day or so before launch." Setask replied. "Hash browns are a breakfast, yeah, but turnovers are desserts."

"It's a pastry, which means you can eat it whenever." Tokkra replied. "Back home anything baked in bread could be eaten any time of day. We didn't have much bread, though. Mostly charred meat or fruit and vegetable we could hunt and gather."

"Do you miss home?" Setask winced as she shoved a huge mouthful of sweet apple. The flaky bread part was fine, but the apples were coated in the sweetest paste Setask had ever tasted, and being three days old and rather soggy, the flavor had gotten terrible. What was Starfleet thinking in labeling this meal "Breakfast."?

"Sometimes." Tokkra replied between healthy bites, shrugging. "Most of the time, no."

"I always miss home." Setask admitted, finishing off the hash browns.

"Living at home was hard all the time. New Romulus is hardly developed. A lot of people are different kinds of sick or dying because food is hard to get. Though the Federation and everyone helps us, we still suffer. Mostly because it is a wild planet. No matter how hard everyone tries, the bugs still infect people and the water and the rains wash everything away, or it is so dry hardly anyone can work. Predatory animals are more than deadly, even the smallest Ejom, a fluffy tiny little creature, can kill without a second thought." Tokkra said between bites, his accent coming through. "But it is a beautiful planet. Its wildness brings it beauty and makes you afraid. But it is so majestic, you almost don't want to live there because you are afraid to ruin all of its natural beauty."

"Romulus was never like that." Setask replied, fighting to chew her own food.

"So I am told. But I was just a baby when it was destroyed. I have no memory." Tokkra replied dryly.

"I visited Romulus once, when I was a child. I still have pictures, but so does the computer database."

"What was it like?" Tokkra asked hesitantly.

"No natural beauty, mostly desert, places nothing could survive where there was no civilization. The Senate, back then, didn't want to build and fix these places, even though everyone saw them as a blemish. Everything else was so wonderful, everything built by your people anyway. Towering building and raptor statues taking off in flight, gigantic fountains children loved to play in, great commerce and peace, no slums. No one was poor there. There were, of course the rich, but those people didn't push everyone down to the bottom. An orderly and perfect place."

"Why would the desert not be perfected? If everything else was beautiful, couldn't the Senate turn the ugly to beautiful as well?" Tokkra asked.

"They could, but that was never the point." Set ask replied, finishing the last of her dessert/breakfast. "Just because it was a place no one could live doesn't mean it didn't hold beauty in its own way. The Senate felt that absolute imperfection and power that held fear was in its own was the most beautiful thing on the planet. The buildings were made impossibly perfect and stunning. Absolutely breath taking. But all the same. Not one spec of totally different."

"The desert was unique." Tokkra replied, pushing the top of his own foil tin and pushing himself up to dump the leftovers away. Setask followed. "It was a different type of perfect."

The duo made their way into the hallway to the turbolift in order to reach the outer pylons to inspect the ships weapon systems.

"The Senate couldn't let that uniqueness die away." Setask confirmed as the turbolift whirred away.

"We have an advantage then." Tokkra broke the momentary silence. "The Borg push all that away, they make everything the same. Even though we can, we don't. We see perfection in everything, whereas the Borg only see the flaws."

This kid was different. It wasn't his first mission, but it would be his last. One way or another. He couldn't have been much older than 20, but he already had such an understanding of the universe and the way everything worked that was impeccable.

One way or another, Setask thought, I will get you home.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Nem pushed herself away from the open panel gasping for air. Setask tapped her comm badge and connected to the bridge.

"Anywhere to target?" Setask asked the bridge.

"Asteroid field straight ahead." Thiri responded.

"Good. Power up weapons." Nem held her breath as the melodramatic crescendo of the dull buzz worked its way up the scale, and the little lights that signaled power output of weapons systems on board, each having its own scale, lit up. From green to yellow to orange to red. The last light lit up, the buzz was out of the human's hearing range but not the Vulcan's, and…

No explosion. Nem let her breath out in a quick gasp. "Power Output Station, report." Thiri's rather gruff voice broke off the short celebration.

"All a go." Setask replied, running her eyes over the data displayed on the screens in front of her. "Fire each weapon at a different asteroid. I'll be recording down here."

"Got it." Tokkra replied.

On the screen, the first little picture of a phaser bank began to slowly strobe red around the edges, a picture of the target appeared in the top right corner, and the power output machine started to whir more intensely. Suddenly, the little lights that signified charge level blinked out in a cascading fashion that was almost too quick to recognize. A line of red light arced from just below the camera recording everything and struck the asteroid dead in the center.

Right on target. No explosion. Whooping and hollering came over the open comm line from the bridge. Tokkra was stifling the joy as he reported the first success. "Targeting scanners on perfect margin, power output at maximum, destruction total."

Different sized asteroids were all tested out with every bank and cannon and torpedo launcher but the data was still the same. No error in any part of the system.

"Alright, just test the phaser and cannon rotating frequency and energy signature." Setask said over the line.

"On it." Tokkra replied. "Firing in 3…2…1."

A slightly less bright streak hit another asteroid, then one that was so bright it could rightly be called blinding. Green and blue and orange and purple and red energy shot through space, impacting with asteroids. The colors held all different hues and intensities of brightness. Despite all these differences, every streak of light caused total obliteration.

Nem whooped and screamed with everyone else on the bridge at their small programing victory that, in the end, wouldn't be so small.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Tokkra sighed in exasperation. The young weapons specialist had been bent over a series of small, clip on, frequency rotators that were programmed to hack into any hand-held phaser it would be attached to. He scratched the back of his head and stared at the complex wiring.

"I can't figure out how to make this work on stun setting. On kill, yeah, it works great. But stun is a whole different beast to work with." He looked on the verge of screaming or crying, which one Setask couldn't exactly tell.

He plucked up a sniper rifle and tapped the kill button. He placed his creation on the edge of the muzzle and fired. A similar color show to the one that had happened in space happened in the weapons room, pummeling the test sheet of metal. Switching it over to stun, the test was less than successful. Only blue and red had been achieved, and only about half of the shades and intensities had been reached.

"I'll make some type of progress in the next two hours. Come back then, maybe." Tokkra sighed, pulling the tool off the muzzle and opening the back up to continue figuring out how to make the weapon fully work.

As Setask left the weapons lab, she mentally went over the next tasks she had to do. Get to the bridge to help Thiri with the testing of the rotating frequencies for the shields, go down to engineering to test power output with Nem, heat up the next set of meals wrapped in foil, dispose of the cans full of used foil, double check emergency triage and other extreme medical care situations with Avery, work on improving and fixing up the deflector dish and sensor array with Lillian, send the packet of data regarding the Dek'Ore system and the Borg movements back to Starfleet and write up, review and send off battle plans, just to name a few.

Going to sickbey seemed like the easiest option here.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Doctor Avery Ryant was sitting as his desk, a dozen hypo sprays being analyzed as he looked over data, tapping away at a separate data padd. Setask stepped hesitantly into his office, tapping on the door frame lightly.

"Am I disturbing you?" She asked.

The middle aged man looked up, his baby blue eyes meeting hers. "Never, captain. In fact, you are just the Vulcan I wanted to see."

"Oh?" Setask raised one eye-brow, unsure where this conversation was going.

"Yes. We'll reach the Dek'Ore system in two days, and you've been working so hard. I was wondering when I was going to have to insist on you coming down for a physical." Avery replied, his thin lips twerking into a faint smile.

Setask closed her eyes and let a sigh of frustration flow its way out slowly, pushing desperation and an unexplainable sadness out with the anger. Opening her eyes again, Setask said, "I am very busy doctor. The list of tasks I must accomplish before we come within eight hours of our target is lengthening. On my list is a required review with the ships physician about emergency situations."

"Yes, I get that you're busy. But what I don't think you get is that before I can effectively treat any member of this crew, I need a physical that has been taken within the last year. This includes her captain." Avery replied, his voice becoming firm as he stood.

"I don't think using your height to intimidate me into complying with you is kind." Setask replied, crossing her arms.

The doctor looked down at her and smiled, backing up and holding his arm out, inviting her into the next room. Setask sighed again and complied, walking and sitting heavily on one of the many bio-beds.

Avery flipped open his tricorder and pulled out the removable piece to take more detailed scans. "Who of the crew is left?" She asked.

"In an hour, no one." Avery smiled.

"An hour?" Setask replied. "I actually have stuff to do."

"Nem is expecting me in engineering, Lillian in deflector control, Tokkra in the weapons rooms, Thiri on the bridge, half a dozen other crewmen in half a dozen other places. I have time for half an hour." Setask replied briskly.

"The crew is capable." Avery replied.

"I have more than a dozen personal reports I need to file, by 2400. 0100 hours at the latest."

Avery shook his head. "I can't imagine the stress you're under right now. But you don't need to become hostile with me."

"I am not hostile." Setask replied, poison dripping off of her words.

"I could drown in the contempt you are showing towards me right now. Crewmembers transfer quickly, they avoid contact with, and get away from captains that show them anger." Avery replied gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. "When was the last time you slept? Ate? Took five minutes to breathe? Took a shower? Changed your clothing?" Silence was the only thing that greeted him. "When was the last time you meditated?"

"17 days, 21 hours, 53 minutes." Setask replied.

"You are the captain." Avery replied angrily.

"Which is why I haven't slept since before we left Earthdock! There is some problem, something that could be improved, someone on their first assignment scared to death, someone who feels the need to talk! 24 hours someone is needing something! I can't turn them away! I am their captain!" Setask replied, frustration brimming. Inexplicable tears suddenly were given vindication.

"17 days is a long time." Avery replied. "I won't let you turn it into 18. 5 days until we get to our destination, and everyone needs you there. This, what you're doing now, will only hurt you. I'm surprised you haven't slapped someone yet."

"Doctor." Setask begged. Now that her anger had brimmed over, she was mostly just exhausted. "I have so much work to do."

"What were you trained in?"

"What?"

"In the Academy, what were you trained in?"

"A bit of everything, I guess. Why?"

"I am going to give you a mild sedative, when we are done here, you will go back to your quarters. Six hours of rest. I'll do the little chores, take care of the dining hall and stuff. I will come and get you and them, only then, can you go and finish doing the things that matter." Avery replied, holding up a hypo spray. Setask held up her hand.

"I can't make you do that."

"Doctor's orders. Besides, most of that stuff is open to volunteers, but we haven't set up a forum for that yet. Just because no one else is doing it doesn't mean that the captain has to. I'll do everything captains don't have to do, and you do everything you need to. After a nap." Avery shoved her hand away and the soft hissing of the devise forcing medicine into her blood stream painlessly replaced all conversation.

Setask sighed and slouched, looking dejected.

"Have you gotten any transmissions yet?" Avery said a few moments later, trying to fill the silence.

"Yes. Have you?"

"Ah yes. My daughter."

"You have a daughter?"

"Yes. Beautiful little girl, turned ten four days after we left. She wasn't sour when she spoke to me on the line, though. A bit nervous, kept asking if I was okay and when I was coming home." He smiled ruefully. "A four year old brother kept crying. Poor kids."

"I'm sorry." Setask replied, her voice hollow. "That you can't be there for them."

"Aye, me too. But something about the stars makes me reckless." Avery said. "I just love it out here. Any kids?"

Setask startled slightly. "Uh, no. No kids."

"Married?"

"No."

"Have a lover?"

"No."

"What do you have?"

"My mother."

"So she was the one who contacted you."

"Yes."

"Any exciting news?"

"That's personal."

"I'm your doctor. You can tell me anything."

"She's pregnant again."

"You sound disproving. How many siblings do you have?"

"A sister, she's 27. I don't disapprove of her having another child so much as what she's going to put that child through."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is sick. Dying, sick. My mother is not old but not young. The doctor told her not to entertain him, but she did. And now it's only a matter of time before she gives birth, and the babe will be born sick. It'll die. Then she'll die."

"You could start a family of your own."

"No, I couldn't."

"Sure you could."

"Even if I could, I wouldn't be able to finish it."

"That's nothing to be ashamed about."

"I can't start what I'll never be able to finish." Setask replied sullenly.

"There are ways to fix that. All you need is a doctor who knows how."

"Why fix what's not broken?"

"I'd say you're pretty broken. That you'd come to peace with it years before but now the wound is open again."

"No."

"You could take the child."

"No. It's dangerous out her. And my sister already has claim."

"Your sister already has a kid."

"Yeah."

"That's a little unfair."

"Not really. I came out here for a reason."

"You ran away."

"I like to think of it as 'found a better path.'"

"I could help you. You don't have to have a kid now, but knowing that you are able is another reason to fight harder."

"I don't need a kid to make me feel accomplished."

"But you've thought about it."

"Everyone has."

"But when you think about it, all you feel is sadness."

"I have a long career ahead of me."

"Yes, you do." Avery replied, smiling. "But only two more years."

"What?"

"Two more years until your Pon Farr. Until you have to wait another seven."

"Seven moves fast. I don't have any interest in anyone on this ship anyway."

"Not yet. You've been too busy. You don't need to mate to have a child, not if you really want one. Just a doctor and some sex cells."

"I'm the captain. I'm not about to be the first mother to stick a kid on the ship."

"You won't be the first. Twelve months before you can even become pregnant and another 10 months before the child is born. Every other species on board is a little more… recreational."

"Why do I feel like you want me to have a child?"

"I don't. I feel like you are making excuses, not getting your hopes up."

"We're fighting the Borg. It is illogical to start this now."

"Yes, it is. But that doesn't mean you can't." Avery replied, raising his eyebrows. "You need some sleep. I'll contact you is anything strange is going on, but I doubt that it is. Don't think that just because you're on a mission for the rest of your life, in the middle of deep space, that you can't be the mother you've always wanted to be."

Setask stood and tugged at the base of her uniform. "Thank you, doctor. I'll be sure to meditate on what you have proposed. I will let you know."

"Go to bed!" Avery called after his captain as she left sickbey.

Setask didn't hear him, but could guess at what he had said. She was already running down the corridor, scolding herself for forgetting what would be awaiting her in sickbey. But as she snuggled deep into her blankets, she couldn't help but think about what Doctor Ryant had said, and couldn't help but think about saying yes.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The third planet of the Dek'Ore system loomed large on the view-screen. History records had it listed as a small, purple-ish planets with deadly plants and animals. A wonderful home for the warrior-driven species of the Klingons. Now, the tiny marble was black with small, green scars. All 23,000 colonists reportedly assimilated.

And the Prometheus had room for 40,000. How long, Setask thought, until her ship became too small, and she had to pick and choose who would survive.

"Locate the probe." Setask ordered Nem at the engineering console.

"Running full spectrum scan now." The Tellerite replied, her normal bouncing manor vanished. "Over the third continent, northern half."

"Good. Ensign Murtagh, approach slowly, one fourth impulse." The Bolian nodded once, but the jerking of the motion gave away the fear that was slowly eating at him. He still did his job.

"Target their shield emitter and engines with forward phasers. Fire when we get in range." Setask ordered. "I don't want them going anywhere."

Tokkra nodded. "Target acquired. Coming within range.

The peanut shaped probe slowly turned to face them, and green energy filled everyone's eyes as the ship rocked. Thiri grunted, pulling himself back to his feet. Tokkra scrambled for his own controls, barely hitting the fire button before the Prometheus shook again.

"Our shields down to 75% and falling…" he paused as his slim fingers raced over the tactile console. "The specialized phasers worked! Went right through their shields. Completely disabled."

Setask could feel the cheers being fought back by the crew. "Transporter room one, prepare to beam us there." The captain turned to the members of her first away team.

Tokkra patted the phaser pistol hanging from his shoulder. Nem smiled encouragingly, and Lillian double checked the frequency modulator on the barrel one last time. Thiri's curt nod of luck was eaten from Setask's vision as the transporter effect took hold.

The warmth of the bridge faded and was replaced with the strange type of chill that belonged to only a Borg ship. The kind of chill that seemed to surround you at your molecules instead of your flesh.

The group was transported to the edge of the ship. The center of the ship was still too heavily shielded. Still, seven Borg turned and fired on them immediately. They had been ready.

But the group of Starfleet officers had quick reflexes—enough to rival those of the machines. The four dropped and rolled, finding cover as the Borg weapons discharge slammed into the backdrop of the transport site.

A canister of volatile matter cracked and exploded, setting off several other canisters. Setask grabbed Lillian and Nem and pulled them to their feet. Tokkra crawled until his fingers could find purchase and could pull himself up.

The four officers raced down the corridor, explosions making the probe tremble under their feet.

The green and black interior began to flash with accents of red and the sound of a warning klaxon bounced off the walls. The section they had run from was sealed off.

All around them, the modified men awoke, peeling away from their alcoves.

The probe seemed more crowded that it should have been. The droned must be constructing alcoves for some of the recently assimilated to begin living and surviving on the ship. There were more than 40 drones in this corridor alone, a whole teeming mass of them.

The crowd was closing in and clumping up. Lillian was the first to fire a shot into the crowd.

"Fire at will!" Setask breathed, "But don't stop running."

A dozen cold, mechanical hands reached out before a phaser beam pushed them back. It was a terrible vision in monochrome that seemed forever unbroken. A total and dizzying confusion that made the world spin in a crazy colidascope of horrors.

The firm grip of a large hand surrounded Setask's elbow, pulling her into a gap that would certainly be too small. Instead, it was surprisingly large once one got through the opening.

Large, blue eyes looked out of the trademark doughy face of a Benzite with the pips on an ensign on his collar. "You all right, cap't'n?" He asked, pulling her down the corridor past the crack.

"Yes, fine." Setask grumbled in reply. "How many Borg are presently on ship?"

"About 700." The ensign replied. "All concentrated in that area, prepared to stop us right away. "

"What about the rest of my team?" The captain asked rather hesitantly as they rounded a small bend.

"Teams two, three and four are working to extract them. They are bending their way through the ship, hunting us down. Team five if tagging survivors for transport." He reported.

"Survivors?

"When you shoot into a careless crowd, those underfoot are not considered."

Despite herself, a shiver ran up the captain's spine.

The duo walked in silence for a time before the three triangularly arranged pylons that held the shielding for the computer core came into sight. A fat Tellerite was kneeling in front of an open panel, a tricorder in hand.

A surge of joy rose in Setask's throat, nearly overwhelming her.

Nem screeched in childish joy when a spark ignited and the shielding faded gently.

"Great work, Nem."

"Captain!" She cried, racing over and wrapping Setask in a near bone-crushing embrace.

"Nem." Setask replied uncomfortably.

Just as the Tellerite pulled away, bodies lurched down the corridor, knocking the three to the ground in a bundle. The whole world consisted of bodies and skin before Tokkra untangled and pulled them into the pylons.

"Reengage the shields!" The Romulan screamed at the top of his lungs.

Nem hesitated for a moments—just until the first Borg was visible down the hall. She pounced on the controls, hooves dancing along the buttons.

"Where's team five?" Lillian called.

"Still in the back." A lieutenant screamed back. The din of the ship was too chaotic for anyone to hear another.

"They'll be assimilated!"

"No. They're picking off and tagging. We're the more immediate threat." The lieutenant replied. The young Trill shivered.

The protective shield engaged barely in time, incinerating the four Borg that had been trying to cross the threshold.

"Download and transmit the computer core." Setask ordered, and Lillian got busy, working to complete the task. Meanwhile, the Borg surrounded them, trying to defeat their own vessel's defenses. "Lillian…"

"Almost there!"

"We don't have time for almost there!" Tokkra squealed, his fear obvious.

"Shields are down!" Nem cried, slapping her comm badge. Everyone else fought the onslaught to do the same.

The mass was descending again, mechanical men coming for them. A sight that most people would only have a passing nightmare about. This awful thing was their reality.

A sharp bite in her neck was the last memory.

Oh god, I'm getting assimilated Setask thought as her consciousness faded into not much more than a bitter memory.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The florescent lights of sickbey were the first thing that greeted Setask when she awoke. The kind face and gleaming grey eyes of Doctor Ryant leaning over her were next.

"Welcome back." His warm voice came to her as if from the end of a tunnel. Her whole world seemed to be contained in a pool of gelatin. "Take it easy."

"What….What….." Setask grappled for the words but they didn't seem to want to come out.

"You were injected with nano-probes." Ryant replied, answering the question she didn't seem to be able to ask.

A firm hand gripped the back of her head and tipped a glass of water to her mouth slowly. The face came into focus a moment later, the antennae curved in worry.

"The drugs will wear off soon. I want to run a quick physical."

Setask nodded, pulling herself up. She fought and swallowed the nausea that rose up to choke her.

"Jacket off." Ryant ordered.

"With all due respect…" Setask croaked. But the doctor just glared. With a sight, the captain pulled the zipper down halfway before her fingers utterly gave out. Thiri unzipped her the rest of the way and pulled the top off. Setask could only protest using a tiny squeak.

Ryant scanned and probed for a few moments before lifting a hypo spray to her neck and taking a blood sample.

"Take the captain to her quarters. I have Borg to treat." Ryant's voice was floating away slowly.

"No, I can make it on my own." She protested numbly, her whole world swimming.

"Let me, please." Thiri replied stubbornly, grabbing her arm and draping it across his shoulders. She shivered as he lifted her from the bed, his free arm firmly across her stomach.

Setask tried to apply pressure to her muscles, but whatever drug she was on wouldn't let her and she stumbled. An escort wasn't a bad idea after all.

Despite the help Thiri provided, air rushed in and out of her lungs too quickly. Her quarters seemed very far away, even though they were only two decks down.

Setask didn't remember falling asleep, even though she awoke the next morning.


End file.
